"impartiality" poems
As the growing world unraveled
And I began the dismal ascension of maturity
I stumbled out the fog of childhood
And there you were:
Advice to head and educate
A Battlecry and a Mandate.
Faith; in things to happen yet
Strength in knowledge- hope in regret;
Stories expressing casually:
Evils impartiality. and
tales of golden fantasies
How no drug is ever stronger than me.
These few phrases I imagine, you see
Into dreams only I can keep.
from start until the seventh day
Waking hour's dreamless sleep.
**Oh how you cushion the destruction-
the entrancement of seduction
to paint to play to grow to teach
Expression extending as I reach**.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 3:28 AM UTC
Bright buds hang precarious on their limbs. Their hundreds of digits green and supple sway as the winds try gently at first to shake them from their perches. They snap back, their ties elastic, always bending.
The wind struck harder the third time. It caught them off guard, swinging back to face the sun. It barreled over them like a train, limbs snapped like bones under tons of industrial revolutionary steel, the cracking brings tears to the eyes of passersby.
They were so green, so verdant was their exuberant friendship, covered in rosy flesh and sturdy bark, ring after ring of tribulation and triumph, but it fractured like a wish bone. She, Persephone, prosecutor of Her, Demeter, was judge of them both, prisoner of herself.
Solitary confinement.
She tugged at her half, she needed the wish, She need for Demeter to see that She needed wishes just like the rest of us.
Demeter, jury. 12.
Her crime: attempted impartiality, balancing a utilitarian ideal that we can divide our attention based on who needs it most. She cannot be tried on account of her inability to read Braille ciphers in gestures, ****** expressions, and Tumblr posts.
Demeter tugged at her half, but only enough to show the other that she was there,
but consistently there.
It wasn’t enough.
Snap.
No marrow could be found.
Where flesh was meant to be dripped rot, an odor of resentment filled their nostrils, it choked Demeter, as Persephone had been choking for years.
This resentment, this cancer, this jealousy, it grew inside of Persephone like a tumor, days from metastasizing, the spread could have killed them.
Amputate.
You two are a tree. Bright buds dangling from every limb, they are still soft and green and supple at their ends.
You two are still growing.
Persephone will cut out this cancer, and She will heal herself, scar tissues covered by broadleafs.
You will soothe them for her. And you will see past the rosy flesh what pain it may hide.
And you two will grow. Roots firm, faces braced against the wind, and limbs always turned towards the sun.
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 5:36 PM UTC
A Tale of Two Cities, Marie Antoinette, Les Misérables,
Populaire and Jacqueline Boyer—
Van Gogh and Monet and all things the Louvre—
Louise Labé and Louis Aragon,
Camus, Voltaire, Baudelaire…
I’ve been breathing in pieces of France,
Eating baguettes,
Dreaming of their kisses,
Committing the curl of their words to memory,
To maybe find out just why they say the French love better.
Maybe if I’ve established the impartiality to the Eiffel tower and the familiarity of romantic cheek-and-cheek-kiss greets,
I will grin under the Parisian Moon, whispering with some curls of my own:
Je suis heureux.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
“Mistakes were made.”
I quote at least three recent former U.S. Presidents,
Who wrote or spoke infamously in the passive voice.
Here’s a bit of history:
The words spoken by automated phone systems,
Were code written by computer programmers.
Computer geeks, revered for their cold logic and impartiality;
Like scientists taught to maintain objectivity,
When studying fascinating subjects like Base-2 Binary Codes,
Disk partitioning and hard drive defragmentation.
Impersonal, the passive voice avoids sentiment,
Steers clear of pesky opinions unfounded on certainty or proof.
Unsurprisingly, the passive voice seeped quickly,
Into the language of politicians,
Our beloved rogues and rapscallions,
Hiding truth, avoiding accountability and culpability.
Practitioners of political science,
They bob and weave and spin.
Yes, mistakes were made.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
I lack enthusiasm
sincerity
honesty
generosity
and impartiality
I like sleeping all day
and being up all night
getting drunk
kissing strangers
and getting a take away on the way home
I wish I had the qualities
that you possessed
like confidence
sprightliness
and the ability to get dressed
I feel a thousand pains
all pouring down the same drain
cold
aloof
and vain
Take me to another place
where I don't annihilate
my brain
my body
and my face
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 8:28 PM UTC
The artists impartiality
Of their craft's integrity
Is their profound gift
May it set us all free-
& Vanquish all anxiety.
When each page is blank, and book empty
Its full with potential's entierity.
Our real gift is sweet opportunity
To create and contrive
Fearlessly.
Its in our art we become who we wanted to be
With truthfull eyes we garentee
That you'll one day begin to see
The artist's impartiality.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC
The struggle is futility
Patient people play the part
Of impartiality
The wiser are restraint
Castigated for their intelligence
Castrated by their class
A classless struggle we abide
Poor children barely manage
To survive and seldom thrive
Not given access to the tools
Of excellence
But we wield the sword of obsolescence
Antiquated ideas put on the same level as
Modern machines and moral philosophies
Broad language discarded for
The disinfected nature of stupidity
Our language is censored
And free thought is crippled
Thus to succeed we must
Write to their level of understanding
So they can understand it
Which means we do not expect grandness
From the masses
That we underrate what they are capable of
The papacy’s power is palatable but detrimental
The Popes presence sends his parishioners
In to servitude as they submit to the
Sublimation of their identity
Unable to identify the truth from the lie
Unable to separate the flock from the I
I become the villain
For stating these things
So I drop names like Darwin and Thomas Paine
I wear the scarlet letter of poet and philosopher
Of Supplicant to science, Of literate romantic
I the son of Percy Bysshe Shelley
The son of Twain and Poe
The Son of Shakespeare and Baudelaire
The son of logic and poetry
The lost ******* of peace, love, and understanding
I leave the eve of man’s ill behavior
To see the seething corps of corpses
Rise in ignorance strive for pestilence
With hopeful hate in their eye
To perpetuate the self-fulfilling prophecies
Of all types of apocalypses
But in the end it will be I that am despised
Thus if I must be hated then at least
Favor me with this tiny justice
Like Galileo, Giordano Bruno, and Copernicus
I will wear chains well earned
There is so much knowledge to be had
So learn, live, love and then learn some more
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
Hey, Judge Kavanaugh,
What should people think
When they hear all about
How much you liked to drink?
You can play it down, of course,
But one thing's very clear:
When you went to school, your friends
Knew you liked your beer.
You showed up at your hearing with
All guns a blazing!
Your little friend Lindsey Graham
Thought you were amazing.
It doesn't really matter to him
If you're wrong or right.
People say that Graham has
Bigger goals in sight.
You are bound and determined to be
On our highest court.
You THINK you're qualified, but something
Tells us you fall short.
A judge-like character
Is ONE thing that's required.
But your impartiality
Leaves much to be desired.
Sure you have your fans who say
You are a decent man.
Republicans are using you
As part of their master plan.
Your shining record doesn't mean
That you weren't once a ****
Now that you've cleaned up your act
You want to do "God's work."
Call your attacks a smear if you want,
But we have had enough.
America deserves a justice
Who is up to *****
If up to par, what will further
Investigations show?
That you deserve to be a yes,
Or will you be a no?
-by Bob B (9-30-18)
Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
One thing I know, one thing I wish for, one thing I would die for
One thing I pray for is that you die a horrible death
I wish … yeah that’s right...It’s just a wish!
If I had the choice to free you or the devil himself
If I had a choice between life and death
A route between heaven and hell… I would sure choose the latter for you
Trust me; I have acknowledged the fact that I am a biological error.
A constant remind of your foolish mistakes. Your own hell I suppose.
You made me make pain a hero, a friend and a **** father you never were.
Death was my mother that I desperately prayed to for her to take me home.
I was desperate for my own peace at my lonely grave
Desperation could not keep up with me; I guess I was beyond the poor thing.
I hope that someday life will serve you as a devil’s dish.
In my own world, in my own fantasy, my own deception of coping with reality, you do exist.
In my own world I am daddy’s little girl, with the pony tails and ****
I am that girl that waits for you to come back from work.
You exist as a figment of my own imagination when people talk about their families.
I long for your embrace like the Sahara’s desert crave for water.
I long for freedom like a slave. My own emotions crucified me.
I stare down death everyday as though I was staring at you.
I guess the simple truth is that I want to see a friendly face in this empty crowd.
Dear father, I hope they have a special place for you in hell, were you will burn for eternity.
When I needed you, you needed a needle. I cried for you but you cried for some sick *****
I cried for weeks and months until it hit me; you aren’t worth it.
You missed the first time I walked. The first time I talked. The first time I shined bright.
I bet you are going to run away from your own funeral! That’s what you are good at.
So dear father, wherever you are don’t die yet. You still have to see my success story.
Witness with your own eyes how life ****** you up on a good opportunity.
I hope your bottles, fake *** ****** and more babies keep you warm at night.
I hope a car doesn’t run over you anytime soon.
Abandonment looked at you and ran away; responsibility looked at you and committed suicide.
But do not worry, I am here to stay. Call me your worst nightmare if you must.
When I told the devil my story he quit running hell and went back to heaven.
He felt you deserved it more. You are hell. Can you hear the bell? Your ride is here.
I will give you a ride to your own little grave. Your little own cave.
I think if you do get this letter know that this is what the universe calls impartiality.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 3:07 PM UTC
Truth imprisoned in things left unsaid
And fear to keep it mute
Expectations not based in reality
Biased beings claiming impartiality
Cloaked insecurities laying low our happiness
Indifference masking dire emptiness
Unable to unite love with prejudice
Unable to see that in the mirror is the madness
Speak vitality into existence
Change the story with a phrase
Find words that breathe life into others
Free yourself; never settle for the same
Witness the world with eyes unclouded
See your true self as you are without it
Rouse the virtuous cycle, now the hesitance gone
Let your heart love, unencumbered, into the dawn
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 4:56 PM UTC
This isn't going to be
one of those pretentious poems
Induced by a wave of sadness.
I've written far too many
Of those.
And I won't let myself
Be miserable again.
There are too many
Numbing medications
For me to tolerate anything less than neutral.
Even that is uncomfortable:
indifference.
impartiality.
Makes me anxious.
Like I'm waiting.
Treading water.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 5:53 PM UTC
Balance is a key word for you.
You give back what you've been given--
In relationships, that is.
You're a doer, creative and driven.
You lack passion, some people think.
But that is truly not the case.
A compromise between passion
And intellect must be in place.
You really need other people;
Your need to be liked must be fulfilled.
Though reluctant to face confrontation,
Sometimes you can be strong-willed.
You probably like to entertain.
Your grace and charm can make you flirty.
You want to make your surroundings pleasant
Without getting your hands very *****
To achieve peace and harmony
You will go to amazing lengths.
Being an expert communicator
Is considered one of your strengths.
Regarding physical exercise,
You could have a lazy streak.
You need motivation since
The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.
If you lack comfy surroundings,
You can easily be depressed.
Your stamina runs in cycles.
Be aware when you need rest.
Partnerships are important to you.
Just keep your head out of the clouds.
You relish being around other people,
But not necessarily crowds.
Diplomacy helps you succeed
As long as your wit and charm aren't obsessive.
When your wiles are ineffective,
Watch that you don't become aggressive.
If you try to please others too hard,
You lose your individuality.
It's crucial for you that others can see
Your kindness, fairness, and impartiality.
When you know it's time to move on,
You can do it with no hesitation.
Being knocked off balance can cause you
Emotional and mental frustration.
Your love of beauty in all forms
Is on an intellectual level.
You--with your social grace--
Could even charm the pants off the Devil.
- by Bob B
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 12:03 PM UTC
The gods have fallen
From high up their mighty seats
From their regal and majestic thrones
Fallen down to human ground
The gods have fallen
Olympus crumbles down
As corruption takes over
Bending all the rules around
The gods have fallen
Their humanity ultimately showing
How easily they can give in
To the whispers of a madman
The gods have fallen
They have played puppets
To the machinations
Of an ambitious despot
The gods are dead
Lady Justice stabbed in the back
By her own magistrates
Scheming with unworthy tyrants
The gods are dead
And their supremacy extinguished
Now kissing the feet of one man
Whose hands are blotched by injustice and ******
The Court has fallen
Its gods are dead
The country bitterly weeps
Afraid of what happens next
Oh Pearl of the Orient Seas
Your gods who uphold your laws
Have succumbed to their humanity
Rise up and fight against the impartiality
Bring life to Lady Justice again
Restore the Cloth of Impartiality on her eyes
Return to her the Sword and Scales
That they have taken away from her
Or else the future of your youth
Will remain ever bleak and vague
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
The struggle is futility
Patient people play the part
Of impartiality
The wiser are restraint
Castigated for their intelligence
Castrated by their class
A classless struggle we abide
Poor children barely manage
To survive and seldom thrive
Not given access to the tools
Of excellence
But we wield the sword of obsolescence
Antiquated ideas put on the same level as
Modern machines and moral philosophies
Broad language discarded for
The disinfected nature of stupidity
Our language is censored
And free thought is crippled
Thus to succeed we must
Write to their level of understanding
So they can understand it
Which means we do not expect grandness
From the masses
That we underrate what they are capable of
The papacy’s power is palatable but detrimental
The Popes presence sends his parishioners
In to servitude as they submit to the
Sublimation of their identity
Unable to identify the truth from the lie
Unable to separate the flock from the I
I become the villain
For stating these things
So I drop names like Darwin and Thomas Paine
I wear the scarlet letter of poet and philosopher
Of Supplicant to science, Of literate romantic
I the son of Percy Bysshe Shelley
The son of Twain and Poe
The Son of Shakespeare and Baudelaire
The son of logic and poetry
The lost ******* of peace, love, and understanding
I leave the eve of man’s ill behavior
To see the seething corps of corpses
Rise in ignorance strive for pestilence
With hopeful hate in their eye
To perpetuate the self-fulfilling prophecies
Of all types of apocalypses
But in the end it will be I that am despised
Thus if I must be hated then at least
Favor me with this tiny justice
Like Galileo, Giordano Bruno, and Copernicus
I will wear chains well earned
There is so much knowledge to be had
So learn, live, love and then learn some more
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
ringing in my ears is an audible silence,
a little pious song of impartiality,
begging me to ask who to blame,
if it be unto me or to my peer.
i’ve grown weary to exist,
and ******* at the fear of fact,
to let the truths be right,
and righteous manners be my truth.
the unknowing lends me courageous,
to project out in an audible silence,
proof of my existence in penitence,
but receiving nothing in the way of life.
it is never heard to be unheard.
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 2:41 PM UTC
Measure me
not by what I appear
but what I am
measure me
not by what I want
but what I reject
measure me
not by words I say
but my unknown deeds
measure me
not when I am in public
but in my privacy
measure me
not by my success
but my failure
measure me
not by what I know
but what I am ignorant of
measure me
not by what others say
but from our personal encounters
measure me
not out of sympathy
but with impartiality
measure me
not with the yardstick of bravery
but my vulnerability
measure me
not as among the selected company
but among the poor and needy
measure me
not when the world is for me
but when all things are against me
measure me
not by the approval of authority
but my desire to be free
measure me
not when I am in the pink of spring or summer
but when I am stricken by the harshness of winter
measure me
in my very frailty
that alone would make me happy.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 10:23 PM UTC
Now comes the parade of litigators with degrees in hand. The legal counsel that works behind the scenes. Deals are cut and cases are shuffled around the court house as lives are taken apart unless you can afford the price of justice. The grist wheel turns grinding the bodies into the system like so much pulp. The poor are the victims of the injustice that purports to be blind, while in truth it rushes to judgement and has empty beds to fill in the prisons that dot the landscape. The police roam the streets like so many big game hunters, each looking to fill their quota. While politicians line their pockets with funds derived from the misery they sell, filling jail beds and taking kickbacks from their corporate overlords who profit off of the labor in the prison factories, where slavery is legalized and condoned by the system that says it is blind and fair. While a person fights for the right to be recognized as a person again, the victim is forgotten by the system that does little to console those who have lost so much, with loved ones torn away by violence and ****** into jails or the grave leaving poverty and want in the wake of the process, thus repeating a never ending cycle that no one really wants to end, lest the truth be told that justice is truly blind, but not to the impartiality as one would suppose, but by the gold and silver that is heaped at the feet of lady justice that will corrupt judgment and look the other way for a price.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC